


Sherlock One-Shots

by Fandoms_d_o_t_Exe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23385421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandoms_d_o_t_Exe/pseuds/Fandoms_d_o_t_Exe
Summary: Idk just a collection of the Sherlock stuff I write. Maybe more people will enjoy it here. Some of these might be short and some might be long, it all depends on how in depth and detailed I get with an idea really. Also a lot of this is probably going to mostly revolve around Sherlock and John, just saying.
Relationships: Mary Morstan & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. Monophobia

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little word vomit that has to do with Sherlock having Monophobia, which is the fear of being alone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has monophobia, the fear of being alone.

Sherlock never wanted to admit it, not even to himself, but he had things that scared him. He hated that he feared things and felt it was unnecessary. Fears didn't help him, if anything they just made his life harder. And of course his biggest fear had to be being alone and isolated from society. Yes he disliked people but he still had people he cared for. Like John for example. Sherlock cared about John but as far as John was concerned, Sherlock was dead. The last thing John saw of Sherlock was him plummeting to his death after a fight with Moriarty. His "death" was for a good cause for if he didn't "die" everyone else he cared about would've died in his stead. Of course that now left him alone and as much as Sherlock didn't want to admit it, he was afraid of being alone.

He may like being alone for short periods of time but not this perpetual solitude he was stuck in now. He hated this with every fiber of his being. Sherlock wanted John's company but he knew that would put John at risk. Instead Sherlock hid away where no one would find him and remained alone. Every night Sherlock would cry himself to sleep and wake up at some point in the middle of the night due to his constant nightmares. He was always screaming John's name, begging him not to leave him alone.

Eventually it hit a point where Sherlock could no longer cry, instead he'd sit on his own and rock himself as his thoughts went a million miles a minute. He always thought emotions were a stupid thing and he thought that more now than ever. This stupid fear and his emotions would become voices in his head, whispering terrible lies to him and trying to convince him to turn back to heroin. He knew he shouldn't but it was always tempting. It would be a way for him to escape this hell he was currently stuck in.

Two years went by and at some point he ended up traveling around for something to do but it never filled the void inside him. He needed proper human companionship and Mycroft was just the one to deliver that for him. He had informed Sherlock of a possible terrorist attack in London which meant Sherlock was to return from the dead. Which lead him to where he was now, standing outside a restaurant, looking in at John with a new woman who he seemed quite fond of.

Sherlock took a deep breath and headed in, quickly disguising himself as a waiter with a fake drawn on mustache. He approached John's table, a bottle of wine in hand as he attempted to get his attention. With a final "excuse me sir," John finally angrily looked over and met Sherlock's deep searching eyed. 

"Hello John."


	2. Mixed Messages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off a prompt I found online. 
> 
> Sherlock has assumed they are in a relationship due to the fact that they had sex roughly a week ago and kissed once since then. However he has just seen his 'boyfriend's walking off from a crime scene with a woman, kissing her and holding her close. Non-established as only Sherlock believes they are together.
> 
> I couldn't not write something for this seeing as angst is my jam. I hope I did it justice. Enjoy.

Sherlock didn't think much of it when he woke up nude in John's bed. The two had gotten drunk the night before and John had kissed him. One thing led to another and he ended moaning underneath John while the blonde pounded into him like his life depended on it. 

A light blush flushed across his face and he quickly scrubbed his hand across his face as he slowly climbed out of the bed. From the bed he heard a groan and Sherlock took that as his cue to leave the room, after all, he was sure John wouldn't want to discuss this predicament.

After that, life went back to normal, well as normal as life was for the two. Of course, Sherlock couldn't stop thinking about that night and it soon became a constant fantasy for him to wank to. Sherlock felt guilty about it but pushed away that guilt. He told himself that it was a harmless fantasy. Everything between him and John was fine and normal.

Until it wasn't. 

John came home one night a little tipsy and grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders before roughly shoving him against the nearest wall. The blonde then proceeded to snog him like there was no tomorrow and Sherlock could do nothing but hang on for the ride. 

Eventually, John pulled away and mumbled something under his breath before stumbling his way up to his room. Sherlock was left leaning against the wall trying to catch his breath while his erection pressed against the front of his trousers. Shaking his head slightly, Sherlock made a beeline for his own bedroom to deal with his problem in private.

The next few days consisted of Sherlock doing a lot of processing of this new information. John wasn't piss drunk this time, he was sober enough to be completely aware of his actions. Did this mean they were dating now? Sherlock assumed so. Afterall how could he not? Only people who were dating kissed the way John kissed him. 

Just then Sherlock's phone began ringing pulling him out of his thoughts. He picked up his phone to ignore the call when he noticed Lestrade's name flashing across the screen. Oh, perfect timing, he needed a good distraction that wasn't John. Without much hesitation, Sherlock answered the call and placed the phone against his ear.

Lestrade quickly explained the case to Sherlock, who's smile grew into a wide excited grin. John sat on the sofa staring at him expectantly, waiting for Sherlock to get off the phone to explain the case. As soon as Sherlock got the address from Lestrade he hung up and quickly jumped from his seat and began pulling on his coat. 

"What's the case today?" John asked casually, leaning forward with his elbows placed upon his knees while he watched Sherlock closely. Sherlock could feel the blonde's eyes practically piercing through his very being and it made him shiver. 

"Four triple homicides in the span of two weeks. Same MO and the murder scenes are practically set up like art pieces meant for display," Sherlock explained, barely containing his excitement. Whoever this murderer was they were both a serial killer and an artist in their own eyes. This was something entirely new and it excited Sherlock.

John simply nodded and stood up, moving over towards Sherlock and standing quite close to him as he grabbed his own jacket and pulled it on. Sherlock stopped breathing for a moment before slowly turning to John for a moment, who was watching him intently. The taller man then quickly moved past John and rushed downstairs to hail them a cab. John was practically on his heels the entire time. 

Sherlock mentally shook himself. He needed to focus on the case but currently, that was proving difficult when it felt like John was trying to bend him over at every moment. Is this what it meant to be in a relationship with someone? Perhaps but Sherlock couldn't worry about that right now.

It didn't take long for an empty cab to pull up next to Sherlock and John. The pair quickly climbed in with John sitting closer than normal but Sherlock tried to not let this fact affect him. Well, at least until he felt John's hand begin stroking his thigh. He could feel his face grow warm with a very red and very noticeable blush. Shit.

Sherlock looked over at John but the other man was staring out the window. Sherlock allowed his gaze to drift down to John's hand and watched it move along his thigh for a long moment. Should he move it? Part of him didn't want to but reason was telling him that this simple action was exciting him a bit and showing up to a crime scene with an erection probably wasn't the best course of action.

Reluctantly Sherlock placed his hand on John's hand before removing it from his thigh. He could feel John's eyes on him again and chewed on the inside of his cheek. Sherlock then placed John's hand on his lap and went to move his hand back to his own lap only for John to grab it.

Sherlock turned to look at John, unsure what to make of all of this. Their eyes met and Sherlock's face grew darker by the second. He quickly looked away and could see John's other hand lifting, as if to reach for him when the cab stopped so quickly that the pair jumped apart. John's face was dusted with a light blush and Sherlock couldn't help but smile at how cute the other looked.

Sherlock went through his normal deductions and such, giving Lestrade as much as he could find. Lestrade took notes and when he was satisfied he dismissed Sherlock. As the tall dark-haired man left the crime scene he witnessed something that made his chest hurt.

Just at the edge of the crime scene stood John and a fairly attractive woman. Nothing too out of the ordinary until they kissed and left together. John was holding her close and very visibly flirting with her. But he and John were together and John was doing this. Sherlock never imagined John being the type for these kinds of actions.

Without thinking, Sherlock pulled his phone from his pocket and began typing out a somewhat angry text.

I wasn't aware that infidelity was something you approved of, much less practiced. -SH

Sherlock quickly hit send and shoved the phone back into his coat pocket. He didn't even bother hailing a cab again, he simply began walking home. He knew the way so what was the point of spending money on a cab anyway. Plus it was a nice night he may as well attempt to enjoy it.

The walk took about three hours and he was a tad chilly when he returned home and as he expected the flat was empty. It shouldn't hurt him that John went off with a woman but it did. They were supposed to be together and that usually didn't consist of cheating. Perhaps he read everything wrong and they weren't together.

Hell did it even matter anymore? All those touches in the cab on the way to the crime scene meant nothing and Sherlock understood that now. Afterall John left him there for a woman. Sherlock cursed himself for being so dull and angrily took his coat off and hung it up, completely forgetting about the phone in his pocket. 

Now thoroughly pissed with himself more than John, Sherlock angrily changed into pyjamas and curled up in his bed under all the blankets. Only then did he notice the tears that were blurring his vision.

Sherlock wasn't sure when he fell asleep but when he awoke sunlight was streaming in through his windows while birds chipped and sang outside. For a moment he forgot anything was wrong but he was sharply brought to reality by the smell of cooking bacon. Reluctantly Sherlock climbed out of bed and pulled his dressing gown on and pulling it tight around himself as he shuffled out of his room.

John stood in the kitchen, quietly cooking. Neither of them spoke and Sherlock avoided looking at John for too long. Then he noticed two plates with some bacon, eggs and toast neatly arranged upon them. Sherlock decided that he wasn't very hungry today and made his way over to his chair, sitting down slowly in it and staring up at the ceiling.

Moments later Sherlock hears the stove click off and dishes being moved around before soft footsteps slowly made their way over to him. Sherlock didn't move and instead kept his gaze on the ceiling until John cleared his throat. Reluctantly Sherlock looked at John but avoided making eye contact.

John looked lost, as if he wanted to say something but wasn't quite sure how to go about saying it. Sherlock almost felt bad for him, almost. But Sherlock didn't feel that John deserved his pity at this moment. Afterall the blonde had been playing with his emotions.

After a long moment of silence, John finally spoke. "Sherlock, eat something please, we need to have a chat," John said, his voice barely above a whisper. Sherlock hesitated before eventually taking a plate from John's hand. He felt a bit like a child.

Reluctantly Sherlock ate his breakfast despite not being hungry or even having the desire to eat. Damn John and how he made him feel, it made it so easy to do as John says. His plate was half empty before John cleared his throat and spoke. Sherlock took note of the fact that John had barely touched his food.

"Sherlock I- I should apologize for a lot. I never meant to hurt you, I wasn't trying to but amidst my stupidity, I ended up doing the very thing I didn't want to do. I want to make it up to you, just tell me how I can." John's voice cracked many times as he spoke and desperation was clear in his voice. Sherlock paused for a moment and looked at John.

"Why don't you start by telling me what exactly we're doing? What are we, John?" Sherlock hissed, internally cringing at how harsh he sounded. John looked a bit taken aback by Sherlock's outburst and went quiet for a long time, probably thinking of what to say.

"I'm not entirely sure what we're doing anymore, I want to change that. I want us to go into something knowing exactly what we're doing. That night we got drunk and slept together made me realize something Sherlock. It made me realize that I want you, and that scares me. Beyond this, I've never been so attracted to a man before," John mumbled, his words coming out in a barely coherent mess but Sherlock understood him regardless. He paused for a moment before continuing.

"As of right now we're nothing, just friends and nothing more than that but well, I want us to be more. Of course, we don't have to be, that's entirely up to you Sherlock."

Sherlock stared at John for a beat, the silence between them deafening. John was visibly nervous under the scrutiny of Sherlock's gaze. The blonde's face was very red and he was fidgeting quite a lot, poking at the food on his plate.

"If you want me, John, then why did you leave last night with that lady," Sherlock pushed, somewhat glaring at John.

John took a deep breath before speaking. "Sherlock, I just- I was scared, about the possibility of being openly gay with you, I want to, don't doubt that fact, but after yesterday in the cab I was unsure and needed something familiar. This is all uncharted territory for me, Sherlock, it's a lot to process." Sherlock nodded before shooting another question at John.

"Did you sleep with her? I came home to an empty flat so I assumed you did."

"God no Sherlock, it was just the one kiss. We got to her house and I checked my phone and saw your text and-" John's voice was unsteady. He sounded broken and defeated. 

"I stayed there for the night, no sex, I slept on the couch. I thought- I thought you wouldn't want to see me. I didn't really sleep though, mostly laid awake thinking about how much I fucked up and how I needed to fix this. God, I didn't realize you thought we were together if I knew I wouldn't have gone with her. I'm so sorry Sherlock."

Silence spread across the room, and John stared angrily at his plate. He was angry with himself, that much Sherlock could tell. Slowly Sherlock moved his plate from his lap and set it on the nearby table.

"What now John?"

John looked up from his plate and stared back at Sherlock, his eyes rimmed with red as if he had been crying or was about to. Now that Sherlock could see the other's face more clearly he could tell that John had indeed been crying.

"If you're willing to try, we could give this another go, a proper one this time," John offered, keeping his eyes on Sherlock. He held his breath, waiting for an answer, not even daring to move until he got one.

"Yes."

"Yes?" John repeated, somewhat bewildered.

"John, can I kiss you?" Sherlock asked, his voice quiet, barely above a whisper. He was afraid of John leaving now that he was so close to this, the thing he'd been craving for so long now. 

When John nodded Sherlock smiled and slowly stood from his chair. He crossed the space between them and stood before John, who quickly set his plate aside and stood. They were only inches apart and Sherlock could hear his heart beating a mile a minute. 

Slowly he leaned down and pressed his lips against John's. John without even a second of hesitation kissed back, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's slender shoulders and tangling his fingers in the other's hair. 

Sherlock made a small noise of approval and John took this as a sign to push a bit further. He began moving forward which forced Sherlock to move backwards in order to not fall over. 

Soon Sherlock found his chair hitting the back of his legs and he toppled into the chair. The kiss broke and John seized this moment to seat himself on Sherlock's lap, gazing into the other's eyes. 

Sherlock felt as if the air had been stolen from his lungs. John looked breathtaking, his short blonde hair somewhat mussed, his pupils blown wide and just barely showing the ring of blue around them, his cheeks darkened red with a blush that perfectly complimented his complexion and his lips just slightly shiny from their previous activity.

This time John leaned in, but instead of kissing Sherlock again, John simply rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock smiled and wrapped his arms around John. It was nice, peaceful and Sherlock felt loved.

"John?"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"You know I love you, right?"

"Yes, I love you too, Sherlock."

And for the first time in his life, John actually felt that the words rang true to how he felt about Sherlock for he loved the tall, insanely handsome, and incredibly smart bastard with all his damn heart.


	3. Unstoppable Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on another prompt thing I found online
> 
> John yelling at Sherlock at 221b, because he sees Sherlock's red eyes and thinks he's on drugs again, but in reality it's just because Sherlock has been crying everyday since the wedding
> 
> More angst because I'm a sucker for it

Ever since the wedding, Sherlock hasn't been able to stop crying. When he arrived home that night to an empty flat the realization dawned on him. He was truly and utterly alone. He'd never come home to see John typing away on his laptop or making a cup of tea or even napping on the couch. He'd never see any of that again. The flat would never feel like home again.

It had been two weeks since the wedding. Sherlock was coping to the best of his ability without using drugs. He knew John would be upset if he started using again. It was a struggle to keep himself clean as all he wanted to do was escape this never-ending pain. But he managed and every day was on and off crying. Sometimes he never left his bed.

Today Sherlock had actually managed to drag himself out of bed. He made his way to the kitchen and made himself some toast. John would want him to eat, so at least he'd do that. As he sat and barely nibbled on his food he heard the door to 221B open. He strained to listen but heard no noise for the first minute and a half. 

Then he heard his name be called from the door. His heart lightened for a moment as he recognized John's voice. Of course, the feeling didn't last long as he began tearing up. He sat there, trying desperately to cry quietly while his name was called out again before he heard feet ascending the stairs. Sherlock became frantic and began wiping his tears away as quickly as possible. He knew he looked like shit but hopefully, John wouldn't take notice.

A second later John stood in the doorway to the living room staring at Sherlock expectantly. Hesitantly Sherlock looked up at John and watched as John's expression went from worry to anger. Instantly Sherlock flinched away from John's angry glare wondering what he had done now to anger John.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Sherlock?! You're left alone for two god damn weeks and you're already using again?!" John hissed, his anger making his voice loud. 

Sherlock already had a headache from the constant crying and currently, John was making it worse. But Sherlock knew he couldn't fight with John or even correct him, so for now, he had to just take it. At least after this, he could curl up and cry some more as he truly accepted that the John he knew was gone.

"Answer me, Sherlock!" John yelled, this time truly yelling. Sherlock physically flinched and winced aloud. He could feel tears threatening to fall again and began rubbing his eyes, willing the tears to hold back for just a moment longer.

"Why are you here John?" Sherlock asked as quietly as possible, not wanting to anger John further. His head was pounding and he swiftly stood, moving towards the kitchen and away from John. He needed some painkillers, at least to dull the pain.

John, of course, followed Sherlock, his footsteps sounding angry as well. "Initially I was worried about you for not contacting me for so long but now I know why! Because you've been too busy getting high!" John practically growled. 

Sherlock forces himself to not react as he downs two pills. As he turns to respond, John begins again. 

"Where are they?!" 

"Where are what?" Sherlock asks, his sadness dampened brain unable to comprehend what John meant. This seems to anger John further.

"Don't play stupid with me Sherlock! The drugs! Where are they?!" 

"I- John, there aren't any drugs. I'm completely clean."

"Bullshit Sherlock! Your eyes are all red!" 

Sherlock takes a moment and self-consciously touches underneath one eye. It was puffy and sore to the touch. He then let his hand drop back to his side as he made his way towards the bathroom. 

He could see his reflection already and as he got closer he could see John's mistake. His eyes were bloodshot, not red. Slowly Sherlock let out a pained chuckle as tears began threatening to spill over again. He needed out, to escape this hell but he couldn't even leave the bathroom with John taking up the entire doorway.

"Sherlock stop screwing around!" 

Slowly Sherlock turned to John as the first of his tears began falling. He couldn't control it anymore and John was only making it worse. A small amount of anger was bubbling up inside him as he shed himself of his dressing gown and shirt, aggressively thrusting his arms towards John.

"Do you see a single needle prick?! No, because I haven't been using, you utter cock! I've kept clean specifically because I knew you'd be angry with me!" He pulled his arms back towards his body to keep himself from shoving John. John who's face was now pale and filled with guilt. "Now get the hell out of my flat! You don't live here anymore and you have no right to treat me like shit in my own home!"

"Sherlock I-" 

"No! Get the hell out!" Sherlock cried. As the words left his lips a large sob bubbled from his throat. John stood in the doorway looking torn between comforting Sherlock and respecting his wishes, at least until Sherlock shot him a glare full of anger and hurt. 

He didn't so much see as he did hear John back away and leave. His vision was blurred with tears as he collapsed on the bathroom floor, letting his sobs and cries take over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all I have written for now but I'll be working on some more hopefully soon. I might also post some of my other stuff so be on the lookout for that.


	4. you miss it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a realization  
> Based off the scene where Mycroft basically kidnaps John

"You're not haunted by the war Dr. Watson... You miss it." Mycroft was staring at him before leaning in slightly. "Welcome back." He said, barely above a whisper. With that Mycroft walked off, leaving John standing quietly in the abandoned parking garage.

John's thoughts were everywhere, each one practically buzzing around in his head. Everything seemed so loud despite his current location. Somewhere in the deeply buried parts of his mind, John knew that Mycroft was right. He couldn't even deny it either.

When he had first met Sherlock he knew he'd be trouble, but John charged headfirst into the thick of it. He could have stayed at the flat and enjoyed some tea and biscuits with Mrs. Hudson but he chose instead to follow after Sherlock like a lost puppy. Even after that when Mycroft had contacted him, he could have refused to get in the car and went back to his own flat. He didn't do that, his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

And now here he stood, in an abandoned parking garage gathering his thoughts and processing the information he already knew but had avoided facing. All logic would state that he should stop this and return to his shitty life but that's not what he wanted. John wanted excitement and adventure, and with Sherlock, he could get that.

John was probably crazy for diving into danger headfirst but he couldn't help it. It made him feel so alive like there was actually a point to his life. Something he hasn't felt since he was in Afghanistan. It's weird to think that being in a war could make someone feel more alive than living a normal life without constantly being in danger.

Of course, having a normal life was something John thought he wanted but deep down he knew it wasn't. So instead he shook his head, mindset on his next course of action. 

He turned towards the woman who was in the car with him on the way back and informed her of where he wanted to go before climbing into the car. She followed and the car started before pulling out of the abandoned parking lot. 

John knew he was probably crazy for the decision he was making but as the car pulled up to his shitty flat only moments later he practically rushed up the stairs to grab his few belongings. He stood in the room for a long moment, his laptop in hand and his gun safely tucked into the back of his trousers. He hated this place since he returned and gave it one last meaningless smile before flipping it off and heading back down the stairs, a bit slower this time.

He had barely settled himself in the backseat again before the car took off again. John stared out the window, not really taking in the London scenery. He was more watching the lights go by as he mulled over his thoughts again. He didn't even notice that the car had stopped until he felt the woman poke him.

He shook himself from his thoughts and got out of the car. Almost as an afterthought, he turned to her before he closed the door.

"Could you not tell him this is where I went?" He asked and she only smiled slightly. John figured that she had already informed him but that was the confirmation he needed. "You already told him." She smiled again and he nodded. "Right, okay." With that he closed the car door and turned towards the door of 221B Baker Street, ready to start his new life.


End file.
